


Damsel not in Distress

by runawaygypsy



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:28:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3872074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaygypsy/pseuds/runawaygypsy





	Damsel not in Distress

She stood on the balcony and watched him from across the room, fully aware that he looked incredibly bored from the way he only smirked with courtesy, the way he rolled his eyes when another of his companions began yet another diatribe. There was nothing she could imagine that the conversation could be about the he could be finding so tedious, only that, by his mannerisms, it was. 

“Alison,” a voice shook her from her observations. 

She turned to look and saw her date as he reached out to grasp her shoulder, presumably to shake it if needed. “Layne,” she smiled in recognition. “I'm just surveying the landscape,” she explained. “There's so many people here I don't know. In fact, I believe you're the only one I do know.”

He shrugged. “Well, you know of them.” He began pointing to various faces in the crowd. “You see,” he said settling his finger on one woman, “That's Amanda Mayes, the woman from those god-awful serials you watch in the afternoon.” She nodded as he moved to another face. “And that, Mariel Fox. She was in that adaptation of 'Sense and Sensibility' that I had you watch, though her hair in that one was red.” His voice began to fade in with the din of the crowd as she tuned him out, her head bobbing in agreement with whatever he said, until his identifications fell upon the man she'd originally been watching. “And that is Tom Hiddleston,” his voice cut through the haze. “He's been in a few movies. He played Loki.”

Tom noticed Layne pointing and looked up at them, flashing a huge grin followed by a half-wave by way of raising his hand and splaying his fingers. Layne's eyes followed Tom's and fell on Alison's face. She was returning the look, he could tell, her interest piqued more by this man than by anyone else he'd pointed out. Weakly, Layne waved back. “C'mon,” he said out the side of his mouth, “I'll introduce you.”

“Alright,” Alison smiled, following Layne as he led her through the crowd on the overhang, then the gauntlet that the stairway had become. “Are you sure you're okay with this?” she asked. “I mean, I am your date.” 

“I'm just introducing you,” he groaned. “It's not like you're gonna snog the guy, is it?” He glanced over his shoulder and saw her coy look. “Well,” he sighed, “If you do, I better get details later.” 

As they stopped at the landing, Alison leaned close and gave Layne a peck on the cheek. “You're the best.”

“Best schmuck, maybe,” he huffed. “It's not like you wouldn't do the same for me, though, is it?”

She nodded. “You're right. If I had the connections to come to a fancy soiree where I knew no one, but my job required my presence, I would definitely bring you to liven up the joint.”

“It's not my fault I wound up working for a PR firm and you're stuck writing articles on this season's best nail colors,” he shot as he grasped her hand and began pulling her through the lower crowd. “You could have been hired on last fall.”

“I love my job,” she defended. “I didn't want the stress you have.”

“Well,” he shrugged, “Some days, I don't, either.” They made it across the crowded dance floor, not full of dancers, only packed with bodies in tuxedos and designer cocktail dresses, oxfords and stilettos, black ties and diamonds, all moving as one entity as they rotated from group to group, revolving like live cogs in a clockwork, until they were on the other side, where he'd been. Except, Tom was no longer there. The people he'd been conversing with melded into the other groups seamlessly. “Sorry,” Layne said. “I guess we'll have to catch him later. I'll introduce you to a few other people while we're here.” He led her around the party, with an occasional stop where he would gingerly cup someone's elbow to get their attention and introduce Alison as, “Ali, a good friend of mine who works for 'Fashions' magazine.” It sounded more glamorous than it was, but she was grateful for it. Against the careers of all these people, hers felt woefully inadequate.

***

“I can't even begin to fathom what that designer was thinking when he made that dress,” his date was saying to the five other people that stood with them. “It's the most hideous thing I've seen from him yet.”

Tom's attention was elsewhere. He'd come to the party only at the behest of Luke, whose firm was behind the production. His date, an actress with whom he'd co-starred a couple times and seemed to at least have a friendly connection to, seemed more interested in impressing whomever she could while there than she was with him. It was because of her he was currently involved in the present conversation, though to say he was involved was quite a stretch of the imagination. It was more like he shook his head at the appropriate times, chuckled when needed, nodded as required. A great more of his reactions involved rolling his eyes and attempting to stifle his yawns by smiling widely through them. 

The party was boring. He'd been to several that were like this- dance floor but no dancing, buffet, but no one ate. The only things anyone seemed to want to partake in were the endless flutes of champagne and banal gossip, neither of which interested him much. As he swept his eyes around the room, then up to the balcony, his eyes alighted on nothing until her face. The woman who stood at the railing in the seafoam green dress, her dark hair coiffed into a chignon, her dark eyes with their long fringe of lashes glancing across the room and taking in the sights. She looked, to him, like a lost princess from a fairy tale, waiting for someone to rescue her. 

Tom recognized the man who ultimately got her attention as someone he'd seen in the offices of Luke's firm. He remembered his name was Layne, that he'd been a recent addition to the staff, but didn't know him well. He'd nearly looked away when he saw Layne pointing people out in the crowd, watching the woman's mouth form into an O as she nodded, but, with each name Layne threw out, her eyes were drawn back to Tom, until Layne's finger settled on his face. Self-consciously, Tom flashed his patent grin, dimples, charm and all and threw his hand into the air to wave to them. He saw Layne wave back, lean close and say something to her. She nodded and then they disappeared into the upper crowd. With a sigh, Tom was pulled back into the present company.

“Tom,” Lucille's shrill voice called, “I'm famished.”

He smiled at her. “Shall we repair to the buffet, then, darling?” he answered, though he was annoyed by her sudden demand for attention. His head was throbbing with a slow-building ache that was exacerbated by her prating on and he'd half-hoped she would find some other man to leave the party with. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy her company. During filming, they'd become great friends, but her tendency to talk endlessly about trivial subjects grated on his nerves. He'd begun to regret bringing her, if only for the fact that, now, he was stuck there, unable to leave until Lucille was.

She shook her head. “Oh, that will never do,” she admonished. “I'm in the middle of quite the conversation and it would be rude to leave now. Would you please be a dear and get me some canapes?”

Tom nodded his head. “Of course,” he smirked, hating that she'd reduced him to servant at the opportune moment. The chivalrous side of him wouldn't let him beg off. With a dejected sigh, he excused himself from their group, secretly elated to escape, and wound his way around the party-goers. As he moved, he kept his eyes out for the woman in the seafoam green dress, but didn't find her. Nor did he see Layne. Assuming they'd left the party, he faced the buffet table, picked up a plate and piled it with hors d'oeurves before returning to Lucille and whatever was left of his dignity.

“That's too much!” Lucille protested when he handed her the plate.

He grumbled, “Sorry, you didn't specify.”

“Well, take some back,” she commanded. “There's no way I can eat all of that. My waistline would not forgive me.”

Tom turned red, not from embarrassment, but from the anger that brewed. He puffed out a breath and was about to lose his temper when a finger poked the back of his shoulder. “Excuse me, Tom, but I'll take some, if you'd like.”

He turned to look over his shoulder and saw Layne, the woman he was with behind him. “Be my guest,” Tom said, his voice calm as he handed him the plate. His eyes drifted to hers, “And who might this be?”

Layne chuckled. “This,” he introduced, “Is my dear friend Ali. She works at 'Fashion' magazine.”

Tom turned fully around and offered his hand to Alison. “My name's Tom,” he smiled as she took his hand.

She nodded. “Alison,” she responded, her face feeling the heat of nerves as the telltale red crept up her neck. “Layne's told me quite a bit about you.”

He glanced at her companion and saw Layne's look of horror. “Oh, has he now?” he laughed. “Perhaps you'd like to tell me what he's been saying about me.”

“Oh, nothing bad, I can assure you,” Layne said, flustered.

As Tom's eyes returned to Alison's he cooed, “Good... Good.”

Lucille had melted into the background, her voice fading from earshot. He thought she was trying to get his attention, but she didn't deserve any of it. He wasn't sure, given her party performance, that she even deserved his friendship. Turning briefly over his shoulder, he saw that she was now engaged with another man, a well-known American actor who'd recently achieved his first Oscar. “Luce,” he said, trying to get her attention. She ignored him. “Lucy!” he said even more loudly.

“Yes, Tom?” she batted her eyelashes at him. “When were you planning on leaving?”

Lucille pursed her lips. “Not until I'm good and ready,” she replied before turning her attention back to her newest companion.

Tom sighed and smiled at Alison. “It looks like we've got some time for us to get better acquainted.” He held out his elbow and Alison took it, not sure where he was leading her, not caring. 

“I'm going with Tom, now,” she said to Layne, whose own attentions had been drawn away by a voluptuous woman in a red dress making come-hither eyes at him.

“I don't want to take you away from your date,” Tom said, his own self-consciousness realizing he was walking away with another man's woman. “I feel like a cad.”

Alison giggled. “Don't,” she said. “Layne and I are cousins. We're also best friends. He brought me because we're both in between relationships, currently.”

The relief showed in Tom's eyes. “Well, in that case, let's go somewhere a bit more quiet.”

“Alright.” Alison held on as he swept her easily through the crowd, back upstairs and through a door into a quiet hallway. She guessed the host had blocked it off for a reason. “Should we be here?” she asked.

Tom nodded. “We're perfectly fine,” he said. “Luke sets this up as a quiet room of sorts.”

“So this is Luke's place, then?”

“Yeah, in a manner of speaking,” Tom explained. “It is on loan to the firm indefinitely.”

She realized she was still holding his elbow and let go, tucking her hands behind her back, breath quickening with nervousness. “So, you're an actor,” she said breathily.

“Yeah, and you work at a fashion magazine,” he returned.

They stood there for a moment, watching each other in awkward silence, each taking in the other, sizing each other up. The air crackled with the electricity between them, waiting for someone to say something.

Tom held out his hands to her and she took them without any apprehension. “You are, by far, the most beautiful woman I've seen,” he finally said. “When I saw you on that balcony, I thought it looked like you were a princess that needed rescuing.”

Alison laughed, her voice ringing through the empty corridor. “It seems like you were the one in need of rescue,” she giggled.

There was no concrete moment when the shared attraction decided to trigger the need for physical closeness, only that one moment, they were talking cordially, hands connected with a decent amount of space between them, and, in another moment, she was pressed into him, her arms wrapped around his neck, tangling in the short reddish-blond curls at his neck, his arms closed around her, their lips together, melded by the heat of their breath, the joining of their tongues, the wet from their mouths.

Alison had never been that way with anyone, not even her ex-fiancee. She'd measured her relationships out, meting them to become physical at precise times, but Tom triggered some underlying animal instinct in her that she thought she'd never had. She moaned as he worked her mouth, feeling his muscles pressed against her even through their clothes. “I shouldn't be doing this,” she whispered in a haze as they took a breath.

Tom had no reply, but he didn't need one. Alison had let go of his neck and her hands played upon the enclosures of his tuxedo trousers. “Shouldn't you?” he chuckled as he gathered the skirt of her dress up, hiking it over her hips.

She looked up at him and smiled. “Not at all,” she purred as she freed him, in essentially freeing herself as well. “Perhaps we should find somewhere more suitable?”

He nodded, turning her so he was backing her down the hallway, kissing her as they moved, until, with a gentle push, opened another door. She glanced behind her as he guided her and saw a bed, still made, its ivory coverlet glowing with the moonlight that came through the window. He picked her up, his lips moving heatedly along her skin as the dress fell from her shoulders, revealing her bustier and corset underneath. Setting her with her back on the bed, he whispered, “Naughty girl. That's a lot of work.”

Alison winked as she reached behind her back and untied the garments before shimmying them down her torso, over her hips with the dress and letting them fall to the floor at her feet. “And yet, not so much,” she purred. 

The removal of those garments left her in nothing but white lace panties, garter belt and thigh-highs and the sight of them enticed him. He licked his lips, his tongue whetting them in anticipation as he threw off his tuxedo jacket, untied his bow tie and unbuttoned his shirt. “You look absolutely divine,” he rasped. 

She scooted back on the bed and spread herself open for him. Her mind was on automatic pilot, her body ready for him like she'd never been ready for anyone before. With rapt attention, she watched as he finished unbuttoning his shirt, taking in the moonlight shadows as they played across the rippled muscles, each movement, though not touching her, increasing the heat she felt inside. He kicked his shoes off and slid his trousers down over his hips, his cock at attention for her. He smiled as she gasped at the sight. “Shall I take the rest off?” she asked.

Tom shook his head. “I'll do that for you,” he answered as he knelt between her legs on the bed, his hands grasping the hooks of the garter and releasing them. He slowly rolled one of her stockings down, his lips trailing on her inner thighs after it, then again with the other leg. Each touch of his lips was electrical, building to her anticipation. He removed her heels and stockings at the same time, tossing them to the floor with the rest of their clothing before reaching behind her to undo the fastening on her garter belt. 

As he pulled it from around her, the last vestige she'd had of any doubt went with it. Alison looked into his hooded eyes and saw the hunger that grew there. She slid a hand to her mound, touching herself, teasing herself while he watched, entirely aware that, the further she got, the more turned on he was, until she saw him take himself in his own hand and stroke himself with her. Her hips began to buck as she slid her fingers inside herself, her orgasm feeding not only on her own ministrations, but his as well. A bead of precum had formed on the tip of his cock and she pulled her fingers from herself to touch it, grazing them lazily around his tip. “I need to feel you inside me,” she mewled, feeling the itch of release, knowing he was the only one that could scratch it.

Tom smiled, rolling from his hip, bracing himself with his hands on either side of her shoulders, positioning himself above her as he aligned his tip with her entrance. She grasped his hips and guided him, pulling him inside her with a gasp. “Oh, god,” she moaned as she adjusted to him, feeling the heat of her unsated lust gather around him. She felt him roll his hips, his pubic bone hitting against her clit and sending a shot of lightening through her. It was all she needed to reach climax. Her walls massaged him as she pumped against him, her voice evolving from gasp to breathy scream, unintelligible cried escaping her lips.

He let her orgasm settle, stilling his own urge to push inside her further until she had resumed a less frantic pattern of breathing, kissing her, caressing her, petting her in the meantime. As her own movements slowed, he began to pick up the pace. He pulled from her slowly, only to sheath himself with equal suspense, repeating again and again, measuring the build up to his own release. She kissed and nipped at his neck and collarbone, her fingers curling along the curve of his ass, dancing along his hips, caressing his chest, until he felt her began to tense again. This time, he intended to sync his own release with hers. He drove into her more powerfully and heard her mewl, her hips bucking against his with each thrust. Tom could feel himself slipping away, replaced with a feral instinct that threatened to overtake him any moment. “Do you want me to pull out?” he asked, unsure if she'd even heard him.

Alison shook her head. “No, I'm on the pill,” she answered before guiding his lips to hers again.

That was all he needed. Her permission, her kiss, and he was gone, rutting into her while she screamed his name in abject pleasure, feeling like he needed to push through himself, through her, until he felt her walls throttle him and felt his release coat them with his own heat. With one final push, they rode out her final paroxysm, frozen together, muscles tensed, until the crest was over and he felt her relax beneath him. 

Tom watched as she took a deep breath, relaxing. “I suppose we should get back to the party,” he chuckled.

Alison nodded. “Yeah.”

As they both climbed from the bed and got dressed, they checked their cell phones. “I guess you left with Tom, so I'm heading out,” Layne had texted her. She had a brief moment of panic, wondering how she was going to get home when she heard Tom laugh behind her.

“Lucille seems to have left the party with that guy she was hanging on,” he chuckled. “Seems you've saved me from what has possibly been the worst date of my life.”

“Well, looks like you're not the only one who's been ditched,” she replied. “I don't suppose you could give me a ride home?”

Tom smiled. “Or, we could go to my place.”

“Or there's that,” she nodded.


End file.
